


I Think I Love You

by It_All_Went_South



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/It_All_Went_South/pseuds/It_All_Went_South
Summary: Pennsylvania's worst nightmare comes true when she's trapped in an elevator with South Carolina.
Relationships: South Carolina/Pennsylvania (Hetalia)
Kudos: 8





	I Think I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with the song "I Think I Love You" (The Partridge Family) in mind, so give it a listen. It's a bit hokey and dated, but I love it. Also, I'm still trying to work out the kinks in my writing (I'm not exactly William Faulkner), so I apologize if I made any mistakes. Finally, New Jersey makes a cameo. I plan on writing about him later, so understand that I've portrayed him in a one-sided and negative light for the purposes of this story. If any of my characters seem bad, there's sure to be something redeeming about them. Probably.

Thunder rumbled as heavy rain pelted the windows, reducing the New Orleans skyline to a dismal blur. Pennsylvania grimaced as she sipped her lukewarm coffee; it tasted stale. She sighed, sat her cup down on the bed stand, and closed her eyes as she mentally prepared herself for the long day ahead. It was the first meeting of the year and she was expected to present a riveting report on educational standards and statistics. Still exhausted from yesterday’s flight, she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, where it was warm and quiet. Unfortunately for her, however, she had little choice, so she rolled out of bed with a reluctant groan and got dressed. 

Mercy locked the door behind her and strode purposefully toward the elevator. She pressed the call button and tapped her foot impatiently. She wanted to get to the conference room early and review her presentation. Once the others arrived, she'd be forced to make inane small talk about the weather and wouldn’t be able to focus. Finally, the elevator arrived with a cheerful _ding_. The doors slid open, revealing a tall, lean man in a seersucker suit reading in the far corner.

He looked up from his book in surprise, then smiled. “Well hello there, Miss Jones.” 

Mercy screamed internally as she entered the elevator. _Oh, no. Not him._ The doors slid shut with an ominous hiss, trapping her inside.

Alexander shut his book. “How was your flight, dear?”

“Long. I got in late.” The elevator creaked and began to move. 

He hummed thoughtfully. “I can see that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…” He drawled. “You look a little tired. That’s all.”

She glared at him. “Not everybody can spend an hour in front of the mirror every morning, Narcissus.”

He placed his hand over his heart in mock-offense. “I do no such thing. I woke up like this.”

Mercy pointedly ignored him and began sorting through her purse. Unperturbed, he continued. “Personally, I detest flying. I had Walter pick me up in Charleston, then we met George in Augusta. We all rode down together, you see.” He picked at his cuticles delicately. “You know, I heard that Anthony drove all the way down from Atlantic City. Have you ever considered riding him? I’m sure he would _gladly_ oblige.”

Her mouth fell open. “What did you just say?”

“What? You’ve never considered riding with him? It’s cheaper than flying coach, sugar.” 

She blushed angrily. “That’s not what you said.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to. Are you feeling okay?”

Mercy closed her eyes and sighed. “Can we not do this today? Please?”

“Do what, exactly? You’ll need to be more specific.” He smiled patronizingly and returned to his book. 

Mercy eyed him warily. She’d been subjected to his company enough times to know that he wasn’t done with her, not even close. Whenever they had the misfortune to meet, he’d inevitably comment on her makeup, her clothes, her ex-boyfriend. To him, anything was fair game. What she couldn’t figure out, however, was why he seemed to dislike her specifically. He didn’t display the same animosity toward New York, Delaware, or even Connecticut, whom he had once attempted to bludgeon after a game of croquet had gotten a little out of hand. And, as far as she could recollect, she’d never done anything to earn his poorly hidden disdain. Well, aside from burning his house down during the Civil War. But, as he had afterwards assured her, it was “Water under the bridge, sugar.”

Mercy ventured another glance at him and caught him staring; he looked away innocently. She turned her gaze to the digital display on the wall and counted along with it. 15, 14, 13, 12… She sighed. The second floor felt impossibly far away. Without warning, the elevator jerked to a stop, and they were plunged into darkness. The sudden jolt caused her to stumble into Alexander, who reflexively caught her in his arms. The emergency light flipped on, and the small cabin was flooded with a dim red glow.  
He looked extremely uncomfortable as he released her. “Well, this is _most_ unfortunate.”

“Why did we stop?”

“The storm probably knocked out the hotel’s power. I’m sure they’ll have it fixed momentarily.”

Mercy sighed. “I’m going to be late.” She leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor in defeat. “And out of all the people in this hotel, I’m stuck with you.”

He looked down at her placidly. “What’s so bad about that? Aren’t we friends?”

She snorted derisively. “Friends? In what universe?” She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap, inwardly resolving to ignore him. What was it she told her students? _Criss-cross applesauce, hands in your fishpond._ Alexander followed suit and sat down carefully to avoid wrinkling his clothes. 

For a while, they sat in silence. Mercy, bored out of her mind, constantly checked her wristwatch and, when he wasn’t looking, studied Alexander’s profile. He was handsome, in a _Gone With the Wind_ kind of way. It wasn’t so difficult to picture him in black-and-white, lounging gracefully on a veranda and courting a Vivian Leigh-esque beauty. Not that she would ever tell him that, of course. He was already plenty vain; he definitely didn’t need anybody else to inflate his ego. And besides, she wasn’t stupid enough to give him more ammunition. She looked at her wristwatch again and sighed, tired of the quiet. She turned to him. “What are you reading?”

He looked at her in surprise. “What?”

“What are you reading?” She pointed to the slim blue volume. “Your book.” 

“Nothing that a lady should be worried about.”

She smirked. “Why, Alexander. I’m shocked at you. Are you reading something naughty?” 

For an instant, he lost his composure and blushed. “I don’t know what you mean.” He responded haughtily. 

“That wasn’t a no.” She reached for the book. “Let me see it.”

“It’s just a book of poetry.” 

“If that’s all, then let me see it.” 

He eyed her warily, then held it out to her. “It’s a book of Limericks. They’re just a little… vulgar.” He primly adjusted his bow tie. 

Mercy grinned. “I like vulgar things.”

He was nonplussed. “I thought you were a Quaker?” 

“I was raised by Quakers. There’s a big difference.”

“I see.” He looked over his shoulder, then whispered conspiratorially, “Would you care to hear one?”

Mercy nodded excitedly. “Yes, please.”

He opened the book to a dog-eared page, cleared his throat, and read aloud. “That play about _Oedipus Rex_ … Has a plot that is very complex. He clobbered his pa, then screwed his mamá, while the chorus sang dirges on sex.” He looked up expectantly, with laughter in his eyes.

She giggled. “You’re awful.” Mercy scooted a little closer to him. “No offense, but I never knew you had a sense of humor.”

Alexander chuckled. “Not many people do. Consider yourself lucky.” He readjusted himself and slid a little closer to her. “Would you like to read one, little miss vulgar?” He held the book out with a charming grin.

She reached for it, but stilled when she realized just how close they were. Her face was mere inches from his and she noticed, for the first time, that she could see her reflection quite clearly in his green eyes. She could smell him, too. His aroma was pleasant, like clean laundry wrapped in an ocean breeze. He observed her reaction and, for a brief moment, looked absolutely terrified. He pulled away from her with surprising alacrity, his facial expression reverting to its usual calm. He closed the book with a clap. “I do believe we’ve had enough humor for one morning.” 

Mercy awkwardly slid back into her corner and wrapped her arms around her knees. The renewed silence settled thickly around them, making the cramped space feel even smaller. After another eternity had passed, she glanced at Alexander again. “Can I ask you something?”

He eyed her warily. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not I feel like answering.” He pulled a silver flask from his coat pocket and opened it. “Want some?”

Mercy shook her head. “Why do you hate me?”

He took a swig and sighed heavily. “I don’t hate you.” Again, he motioned to the flask. “You sure?”

“I don’t drink.” 

He took another sip and snickered. 

“What?” 

“That’s why you’re so miserable. You need a good, stiff drink.” He explained with a languid smile. 

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” She huffed in exasperation. “You never have anything kind to say. What’s your damage, Heather?”

“That’s not true.” He said defensively. “I’ve said plenty of nice things to you.”

She crossed her arms. “Name one.”

He tapped his flask thoughtfully. “What about the Christmas party? I complimented your dress.”

She glared at him. “No, you didn’t. You said I looked like the Quaker Oats mascot.”

“Well, your dress _was_ rather dour. If you had just put on a powdered wig and a hat...”

“You did it again.” Mercy interrupted. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” She watched him take another drink and wrinkled her nose. “What is that? It stinks.” 

“Something North cooked up in his shed. It’s a little strong for my taste.” He leaned against the wall and giggled. “Look at me, getting tipsy before eight o’ clock.” He pulled out a golden pocket watch and frowned. “How long have we been stuck here? I’ve lost track of time.”

Mercy checked her wristwatch. “An hour.” She sighed and closed her eyes. The meeting was scheduled to begin in four minutes. She tried to picture what was happening downstairs. Virginia was, undoubtedly, already calling the roll. She always took attendance early, much to the irritation of everyone else. _If you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late._ It was likely that North Carolina and Tennessee were missing. They were rarely, if ever, punctual. New Jersey was probably pacing the room anxiously, waiting for her, while his brothers begged him to sit down and stop embarrassing them. He didn’t take last year’s break-up very well and was constantly trying to reconcile with her. Her eyes widened as a previously nebulous idea coalesced into a sudden realization: Alexander had started targeting her when she and Anthony first started dating. Desperately, she reached for the flask. “Give me that.”

“Why? You don’t drink.” He clutched it protectively.

“I do now.” 

He sat up slowly and gave it to her. “Don’t blame me if you get sick.” 

She looked down at the container apprehensively. “How do I...”

“Just drink it, chicken.” 

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, noticing Alexander’s smirk, she took a deep breath and drank. She coughed as the alcohol burned her throat. “Oh my God. Is this ten-thousand proof? How can you even drink this?”

Alexander snorted in amusement. “I’ve had lots of practice.” He retrieved the flask. “Walter insists it’s blackberry flavored, but I can’t ever taste any.” He regarded her curiously. “What?”

She crawled over to him. “Can I have some more?” 

He obliged with a smile.

They passed another spell in their elevator-purgatory prison by getting completely trashed. Alexander looked impressed when Mercy finally emptied the flask. She flipped it over and gently traced its engraving with her fingertips. It was a highly detailed map of South Carolina, beautifully done. He nodded at it. “It was a birthday gift from George. He engraved it.”

Mercy carefully studied the image. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“Yes, I did. I said I didn’t hate you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She clarified, then clumsily put the flask back in his pocket. “Why are you so rude to me?” 

“If I’m so rude, why would I share my liquor with you?”

“You’re evading the question.” She slurred. “You wanna know what I think?”

“What do you think, sugar?” 

She moved closer to him and whispered confidentially, “I have this theory about you. I think you’re just like a fifth grader I know.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Mercy placed her hand on his, and he glanced down in surprise. The alcohol made her feel bold. It also made the room spin. “There’s a kid in my math class, Jacob. He’s horrible to the same girl constantly. He steals her pencils, yanks her ponytail, and is a nuisance. I must’ve sent him to the office, like, four different times in one week.” She hiccuped, then continued. “Then one day, I realized that the little shit had a crush on her, but was too immature to admit it. That’s why he acts out.” She leaned in even closer and felt his breath on her face; it was warm and smelled like fresh blackberries. “D’you follow?” 

Alexander blanched and shook his head emphatically. “You’re mistaken, honey. I don’t like you. I… I despise you.” 

“But I thought you didn’t hate me?” She asked innocently. At her words, he visibly flinched. She climbed to her knees and straddled him, then placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed him firmly to the wall. When she gently cupped the side of his face, his eyes went wide. “I have another theory I’d like to test.” She murmured, tracing her thumb along his jawline. “If you really do hate me, you’ll stop me.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. 

He reacted instantly by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her roughly to his chest. He moaned into the kiss, deepening it, and ran his fingers through her hair. At that moment, the elevator returned to life and began to move. Mercy pulled away in surprise and looked around. “We’re finally moving!” She laughed gratefully, but fell silent when she noticed Alexander’s glare. “What’s wrong?” She asked anxiously. Had she misread him?

“Who told you to stop?” He yanked her back into his embrace, and, smirking at her startled gasp, kissed her again. They continued for a while, exploring each other with hungry mouths and roving hands, oblivious to the world, until they heard a startled gasp. They both realized far too late that the elevator had stopped moving and looked up in surprise. The doors stood wide open, revealing a red-faced North Carolina and a cackling Tennessee. 

“Walter! Cade!” Alexander yelped. “It’s not what it looks like.” He shoved Mercy to the floor and sprang to his feet.

Walter crossed his arms. “Is this what you’ve been doin’ all mornin’? I’m surprised at you.” 

Cade sniffed loudly. “How come you smell like a drunk?”

Alexander motioned helplessly as he sought an explanation. “That... that hussy plied me with liquor and forced herself on me!” He pointed at her accusingly. “She’s a dirty pervert.”

Walter nodded sagely. “Oh, I see. It’s the religious ones you’ve gotta watch out for. They’re all so dadgum repressed that, sometimes, they just snap.” 

Cade smiled. “It’s true. One day it’s all Jesus and Bible studies, then, next thing you know, you got a finger up your butt.”

Walter looked at him in alarm. “What?”

Mercy was incensed. “You jerk! You kissed me back!” Then she turned to Walter. “And I’m not a religious fruitcake! Why do you think that?”

Cade looked at his brother. “Is she tellin’ the truth, Southie?”

Alexander blushed furiously. If there was anything he hated more than a Yankee, it was losing face. “She… She…” He sputtered, too angry to speak. “She grabbed my ass!”

“Told you.” Cade confirmed. He made a circle with one hand, then stuck a finger through it with a _pop._

“What are you talkin’ about?” Walter asked, still alarmed.

Mercy’s mouth fell open. “You’re one to talk, David Cop-a-Feel. Your hand was so far up my blouse, that...” She trailed off as Alexander stormed away in a huff. He entered a nearby stairwell and slammed the door behind him. She leaned heavily against a wall and covered her face, trying desperately not to cry and failing miserably. 

Walter gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t cry, Moon Pie.” He smiled gladly when she looked up at him. “I have a great idea. Why don’t we go have a little sit-down? There’s a real good diner right around the corner.” 

She gratefully accepted the handkerchief that Walter offered and wiped her eyes. “I can’t. I’m already really late for the meeting.” She sniffled pitifully. “And I smell like a liquor still. I haven’t even had time to practice my presentation.” 

Cade threw his arm around her waist and squeezed her comfortingly. “Oh, to hell with the meetin’. We skip it all the time, and nothing bad ever happens.”

Walter nodded in agreement. “When we get back, you can blame us.” 

Ignoring Mercy’s protests, they led her down to the lobby, through the entrance, and into the storm. Walter opened an umbrella, boldly emblazoned with his state flag, and they strolled down the block, with the siblings on either side of her to shield her from the deluge. After a few blocks, they arrived in front of a small brick building illuminated by a neon sign that stated, “The Best Breakfast In Town.” 

Mercy, anxious to escape the rain, gladly followed Walter inside and plopped down in a booth. Cade slid in next to Walter, and they both smiled. “What do you want to eat?” They asked in unison.

Mercy looked at the faded menu and grimaced. “I’m not really sure. I don’t ever eat breakfast.”

Cade guffawed. “Don’t eat breakfast?” He looked to his brother in disbelief. “We gotta get ‘er fixed up.”

Walter nodded happily. “Don’t you worry, Penny. We’ll order for you.” 

“That’s not necessary. I’ll just have some coffee.”

Cade smiled ominously. “You ain’t got no choice.”

A waitress approached with a cheery smile. “Hello again, boys. The usual?”

Walter nodded. “Yes ma’am. Could I also add another big breakfast special, please?” He looked at the menu. “And… extra coffee for the lady?”

The waitress (Deb, according to her plastic name tag ) nodded. “Sure thing, hon. I’ll bring it right out.”

“You’re in for a real treat.” Cade grinned excitedly.

Walter cleared his throat nervously. “So, uh, about Alexander…”

“What about him?” She asked morosely. She neither wanted nor needed their pity. It wasn’t the first time she’d been rejected, nor was it likely to be the last. _C’est la vie_. Unfortunately, her rationality did little to deaden the emotional pain she felt. Mentally, she kicked herself. _Stupid._ What exactly did she expect to happen? That, consumed by passion, he’d profess his undying love and adoration, then ravish her against a wall? Those dollar store novels had lied to her. 

Walter, apparently reading her mind, raised his hands defensively. “Now, I don’t want you to think that we brought you here outta pity. We just wanna talk.” 

Cade peeled open a packet of jelly and ate it. He savored it for a moment, then began uncertainly, “It’s just that, well…” He was interrupted by the waitress, who had returned with their order.

She smiled. “For Walter… Cade… And you, sweetie.” She sat a huge stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, country ham, home fries, grits, a biscuit, gravy, and a full pot of hot coffee in front of Mercy’s wide eyes. The waitress laughed at her expression. “I’ve never seen anyone eat like these two do! I don’t know where on Earth they put it.” Still smiling, she strode away.

Cade dug into his food and motioned at her with a piece of bacon. “Eat. Don’t let your food get cold.”

Mercy poured some coffee and took a sip. It was strong and hot. “What were you saying?”

Cade mumbled something through a mouthful of grits, and Walter held up a finger. He leaned over and carefully cut the ham on Cade’s plate into bite-sized pieces. When he finished, he looked at her and frowned. “What we say doesn’t leave this table. Understand?” 

Mercy nodded and bit into a biscuit. 

Unsure of where to begin, Walter and Cade looked at each other and argued silently. Walter shook his head, Cade nodded excitedly, Walter crossed his arms, Cade raised his eyebrows, Walter frowned. Finally, Cade rolled his eyes and said, “The real reason we brought you here is to ask...” 

“Beg.” Walter corrected. 

“Beg.” Cade amended. “We’re beggin’ you to give Alexander another chance.”

Mercy was incredulous. “Give him a second chance? He doesn’t want anything to do with me. He made that abundantly clear.” She refilled her coffee mug, then added, “I can take a hint.”

Walter chewed thoughtfully on a piece of egg. “You’re wrong. He really likes you.”

Cade nodded. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed you back; he would’ve popped you in the mouth.” 

Walter motioned with his fork. “He only acted like an ass ‘cause he got caught, not because he don’t like you. He was just embarrassed. And, I’ll admit, Cade’s reaction didn’t help anything.”

“My reaction?” Cade asked indignantly.

Mercy aggressively shredded a piece of sausage, annoyed by their bickering. “Why do you two even care? It’s not any of your business.”

Cade looked hurt. “Well, because he’s our brother and we love him. We think that you’ll make him happy. And, whether or not you’ll admit to it, you still like him.” He sighed. “We weren't surprised ‘cause he was kissin’ on somebody. We were surprised ‘cause somebody wanted to kiss him.”

Walter nodded in agreement. “He’s really lonely, but won’t admit it. He never makes the first move.” He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms. “But neither does anyone else. Well, except for you. He's just too intimidatin’. He swatted Cade’s roving hand away from his plate. “I can’t begin to tell you how many pretty girls I’ve set him up with, but nothin’ ever seems to work out.”

Cade ignored Walter’s jabs and began eating his breakfast. “For a while, we thought he was gay.”

“Not that there’s somethin’ wrong with that.” Walter added, staring forlornly at his stolen biscuit. “But, well, you can only imagine the look on his face when I set him up on a blind date with that guy from Marianne’s book club.”

Cade snickered. “He was so pissed off.” 

“And, if we’re bein’ honest.” Walter continued, “You’re kinda out of his league. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and, as a bonus, you actually like him. That’s never happened before!” He smiled excitedly. “That’s why you’re perfect for him. Think about it! You’re an elementary school teacher, so you already know how to deal with temper-tantrums and whinin’.”

“And your ex is a total nightmare, so you’ve already got plenty of experience with passive-aggression.” Cade added helpfully.

Mercy snorted. “You certainly make interesting points.” She leaned her head back and groaned in frustration. “What would I even say to him? He called me a pervert.”

Cade patted her hand reassuringly. “Oh, he don’t really think that, Penny. Just do whatever you did before. You know…” He raised his eyebrows. “Kiss him, or… touch his butt or something.” He looked around for the waitress and waved. “Could we get our check, please?”

Walter settled the bill and they exited the restaurant. Though thunder still rumbled above, the downpour had subsided to a drizzle, making their return more pleasant. They strolled back to the hotel in silence and, before Mercy realized it, she was standing in the lobby again. She saw New Jersey standing by the front desk, flipping through a newspaper. Crap. At the sound of their entrance, he glanced up and, noticing her, approached with a look of irritation. “And where were you? The meeting started over an hour ago.” 

“I’m really sorry, Jersey. Something came up.”

“Something came up?” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well, whatever it was, I hope it was important. Everyone’s waiting on you.” He began to turn away, but stopped short. “Why do you smell like alcohol?”

Cade slipped deftly between them and smiled brightly. “That’s my bad. I had some moonshine for breakfast.”

Jersey eyed him suspiciously, then gasped. “Penny, you have bruises all over your neck!” He squinted. “Are those hickies?” His face reddened. “What exactly have you been doing all morning?” He turned accusingly to her escorts. “And what were youse guys doing with my girl?”

Mercy grabbed his arm. “Tony, it’s not what it looks like. Also, I’m not _your girl._ Do I look like Paula Abdul?”

He smiled patronizingly. “Not now, baby. I’m handling this.” He stuck a finger in Cade’s face. “Did you come on to her, you little bastard? I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Mercy angrily interrupted him. “Anthony, stop it! Nobody came on to me.”

Enraged, he turned on her. “Oh, now I see what this is. You dumped me so you could jump into the sack with this joker! What’s so special about him, huh?”

Before she could respond, New Jersey crumpled heavily to the floor. Walter stood directly behind him, holding a lamp over his head. “Well, that didn’t fix nothin’.” He threw the lamp aside with a crash and turned to his brother. “Help me carry him upstairs.”

“Why on Earth would you do that?” She covered her mouth in shock. 

“I dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He grabbed Jersey’s feet and lifted. “Besides, nobody talks about my brother like that. He’s never come on to nobody. Well, except for this one time with Betty Grable, but...”

She interrupted him.“He's going to be pissed when he wakes up. You only made things worse.” 

Walter placed a hand to his forehead. “Shit. You’re right. Should I kill him?”

“What? No!”

“Are you sure? I could just grab a pillow and...”

“Walter!” She glared at him.

He chuckled. “I’m just shittin’ you. Smotherin’ someone is way more trouble than it’s worth.”

Cade grabbed Tony’s arms and lifted. “South is in room 2006. It’s up on the top floor.” He smiled encouragingly. “Go get ‘em, tiger. Use protection!”

“What?”

“I said good luck!” 

They carried New Jersey’s unconscious form to the elevator and pressed the call button. As the doors slid shut, Walter smiled encouragingly and gave her a thumbs-up. 

Mercy sat down and attempted to gather her courage. Another sip of blackberry moonshine would’ve been nice right then. She really should ask Walter to bring some to the next meeting, assuming he wasn’t permanently banned for assaulting Anthony with a table lamp. She placed her chin on her palm and sighed. Did she seriously have feelings for someone so aggravating? So spiteful? So persnickety? God, she really needed to reevaluate her love life. Wanted: Boyfriend. Requirements: Must have pulse. Mercy laughed quietly to herself. South wasn’t that bad, was he? When they were trapped together, he had been almost pleasant. He was handsome and liked poetry and was a great kisser. She knew she hadn’t simply imagined the chemistry between them; no, she wasn’t that naive. At least, not after her last relationship went down in flames. Steeling her nerves, she rose and walked toward the elevator.

When she arrived at the twentieth floor, she stepped slowly into the hall. For a moment, she considered turning back. She vigorously shook her head to dispel that thought and walked down the hallway. She counted each numbered door that she passed. 2001, 2002, 2003. She tried to calm her nerves. 2004, 2005. Was she certain she wanted this? 2006. She raised her hand and knocked. 

She heard movement from within. “Who is it?” Alexander inquired.

“It’s me.”

There was a muffled bump and some descriptive cursing. The door opened slightly. Alexander regarded her stoically through the narrow space. “May I help you?” 

“Can I come in? I just want to talk.”

He sighed heavily and opened the door completely, motioning for her to enter. She viewed her surroundings with interest; his room was extremely tidy. The bed was perfectly made, his clothes were folded neatly, and a tall stack of books, alphabetically organized, sat on a bedside table. He politely offered her the only chair, which she accepted. He perched himself on the edge of his bed and eyed her warily, as if she was, somehow, a threat. He sat in silence for several minutes before speaking. “About earlier…”

She nodded. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“I see.” Alexander picked at a loose thread on his comforter. “Well, I don’t pretend to understand what happened earlier, but, I can assure you, it was simply a moment of weakness on my part.” He regarded her coolly. “We both had too much to drink. We were impaired… We weren’t behaving rationally.” 

Mercy didn’t respond. She reflected on Walter’s earlier statement: “One day it’s all Jesus and Bible studies, then, next thing you know, you got a finger up your butt.” Wait, no. That wasn’t right. What did he say, exactly? She imagined him smiling over a stack of pancakes. “He’ll never make the first move.” Mercy took a deep breath and stood up. “You’re lying.”

“What did you just say?” Alexander sounded positively offended.

She crossed the room, sat next to him, and placed a hand on his thigh. He gripped the comforter tightly in his hands and gave her a sidelong glance. “I said you’re lying. You know exactly what it was.”

He flicked his gaze to the floor. “No, I don’t.” 

She leaned against him, and he flinched. “Yes, you do.” Mercy cupped the side of his face and gently turned his head. She looked into his eyes. “What are you so afraid of? Is it really that hard to accept that you like someone?” 

“I… uh… you… um.” He couldn’t quite form a coherent thought. 

“Because I happen to like you.” 

Alexander didn’t answer her. He was intent, apparently, on looking at everything but her.

Mercy continued. “I think that, for whatever reason, you’re always on the defense. You don’t want anyone to know anything about you because they might not like it.” She leaned away from him and carefully folded her hands in her lap. “You know what else? I think you shield your insecurities behind your behavior. You don’t want anyone to think you’re weak, so you act like an ass. But you know what? For a few seconds, your mask slipped, and I saw you, the real you, and I liked who I saw. He likes limericks and has a dirty sense of humor. He loves his family.” 

When he didn’t answer, she sighed sadly. “Maybe I was wrong.” She stood up. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day. Goodbye, South.” She walked to the door.

“Wait.” He called out. “Please don’t leave.”

She didn’t turn around. “Why not?”

The facade had finally cracked, revealing a forlorn expression. “Did you actually mean that, sugar? About liking me?” His voice, normally silky smooth, wavered audibly.

She warily returned to her spot on the bed. “Of course I did, South. I like you an awful lot. It just took getting completely trashed for me to realize it.” 

He made a choking sound, and Mercy realized he was laughing. “How romantic.” Then he shook his head sadly. “I… feel strongly about you as well. But, it’ll never work out, I’m afraid.” 

Mercy took his hand. “Why do you think that?”

“You’ll learn to hate me again. You’ll see something you don’t like, then you’ll get tired of me and leave, just like everyone else.” He smiled faintly. “I could practically list the reasons.”

“Try me.” She crossed her arms.

“Fine.” He hummed thoughtfully. “First, you should know that I’m difficult to get along with. I can be somewhat… disagreeable.”

She chuckled. “I had no idea.”

“I’m not very affectionate either.”

“That’s not a deal breaker.”

He studied her face intently, searching for any hint of disingenuity. “I’m a control freak and jealous lover.” He added desperately, “Also, I… I can be demanding, and my family is completely deranged. You’d have to survive Sunday dinners with my brothers.”

“Believe me, I already know.” She smiled softly. “And I happen to like your family.”

“And you’re fine with all of that? You still want to be with me, in spite of everything?”

Mercy shook her head. “Not in spite of anything. I just want to be with you.”

“Ah.” He looked at her curiously, then regained his composure. He adjusted his bow tie and drawled, “I suppose the matter is settled, then.” 

“Really?” She asked in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Indeed.” He smiled and leaned toward her, until his lips were a hair’s breadth from hers. She could smell him again, that faint aroma of fresh linen mingled with warm ocean air. “May I kiss you, Miss Jones?” 

Without answering, Mercy threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. With a groan of satisfaction, he firmly embraced her and yanked her into his lap. Thus tangled together, they fell back onto the bed laughing. It was strange, she reflected, that being with him felt so natural, when, a few hours ago, she would’ve laughed at the notion. Hadn’t she once claimed to hate him? And yet, she’d certainly had stranger upheavals in her long life, though none quite this pleasant. At that moment, she realized that she was on the edge of a precipice, one where Alexander stood far below with open arms, waiting to catch her. She thought back to the elevator, the hallway, and her earlier trepidation. Was she certain that she wanted this? That she wanted him? Steadying herself, she took a deep breath and leapt over the edge.


End file.
